


Tally Marks

by Shuud



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Depression, F/M, Heartbreak, M/M, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuud/pseuds/Shuud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael got his first mark when he was seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tally Marks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm shit at writing and english is not my first languaje so this is gonna be a disaster.  
> If there's any misspellings, I'm really sorry.  
> Hope you like it!

The first tally mark appeared a week after he turned seven. The little Mikey realised it because his tiny foot began to itch.  
The second he saw it, he ran into his mommy's arms, afraid there may be something wrong with his body. His mom hugged him tight and assured him it was common and then proceeded to show him her forearm. Michael looked at the five tally marks his mom had on her skin. She had two white lines, a red one and two black.  
Michael's mom explained him how tally marks worked.  
See this one?-she asked Michael, pointing to the red one-This means you fell in love with someone, but the person didn't love you back.  
Michael's face turned into a sad expression. He checked his left foot, making sure his mark wasn't red. He smiled, it was black.  
Right here, you have a black mark. It means you fell in love, and it's corresponded.  
What are these?-Michael pointed to the white lines-what do they mean?  
Michael saw his mom's eyes starting to water and immediately worried.  
Why are you crying, mommy?-he cupped her cheeks on his hands, looking right in her eyes.  
These ones, honey, appear when the one you love die.  
Michael thought he didn't want to know anything about tally marks, but curiosity ate him inside, so he asked one more question.  
Who are the people you love, mommy?  
Well, these two black marks are from your father and you, sweetheart. One of these was red, until this morning. Right when you got yours-Michael smiled widely, he loved his mommy, and his mommy loved him-these white ones are your granny's and grandpa's.  
And the red one?-he asked, touching it slightly, afraid he might hurt his mom.  
This one is a long story, honey. I'll tell you later, because now you have to take a shower, little man. You smell terribly bad.  
Michael brought his clothes to his nose and agreed with her. He had to take a shower. He jumped down his mom's lap and ran to the bathroom, leaving her smiling at the little sunshine.  
Michael was seven when he knew his mommy loved him back. 

 

When Michael was ten, one of his mom's black marks, the one that belonged to his father, became a scar. Of course, Michael didn't know.  
He heard a scream and ran downstairs only to see his mother crying on the floor. He tried asking her what happened. Why was she crying. But he received no response. His mother couldn't perform a single word.  
They laid on the flor for about an hour. When the phone rang, Michael got up and went to answer it. But his mother was faster, and pick it up before him.  
Michael wanted to know who was on the phone, and what did they said to his mom, because she was screaming again and crying, and she furiously hung up and went to her room.  
Michael knocked on her door. Michael knocked, and knocked and knocked, but he got no answer back. His mom wasn't answering.  
He didn't know what to do. He was only ten. What could he possibly do? Break down the door wasn't an option. Calling the cops? That would be a lot of trouble. He kept knocking.  
Ten minutes later he decided to call his father. He'll know what to do. But, yet again, he got no answer. It was like his parents didn't want to tell him something.  
He was getting more and more worried as the time passed. It had been 2 hours and his mother never left the room. He was scared. He didn't know what to do, so he started crying. He cried out of frustration. He felt useless. If he couldn't bring his mother to talk to him, he couldn't do anything. He sat on the floor next to his mother's room and cried.  
It had been three and a half hours, when his aunt opened the front door. He was sound asleep, but he woke up when he heard his name being called. His aunt suggested him he should go take a shower. She would tell him everything, but she needed to talk to his mother alone.  
His aunt had four red marks and three scars. Michael knew two scars were for his grandparents, but he never got to meet his aunt's black mark. His mother told him he died before he was even born. That made him sad. She lost the only three people that really loved her.  
He was afraid. Afraid of the red marks. Afraid of the scars. He was afraid of black marks too.  
He checked his foot. He always did. He didn't wanted his mom to stop loving him. He didn't know what happened when someone stopped loving. Did the mark disappeared? Did it turned another colour? Did it become a scar?  
He stepped out of the shower and heard another scream. It was his mother again. He got quickly changed and ran downstairs to find his mom and aunt, both crying on the couch. He walked up to them and demanded being told what was happening. Where was his father? Why was his mother crying? Why was his aunt there?  
Sweetheart, I think you need to sit-his mom patted the sit beside her-please, come and sit.  
He did as told, and immediately regretted doing so.  
He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't feel anything. The couch under him disappeared. His mom's hands on his shoulders weren't there anymore. He knew they were calling out his name, but he couldn't do anything. He was paralysed.  
When Michael was ten, he lost his father. 

 

Michael was fifteen when he felt the itching on his foot for the second time in his life. His heart stopped beating for three whole seconds. He wasn't ready to see what mark appeared on his skin, so he put on a pair of sneakers and ran to take the bus.  
Michael spent the first period thinking about the mark that itched him. He unconsciously draw black lines on his essay, and the professor asked him if he needed to go see the school counsellor. Michael responded he was fine and everyone stared at him weird.  
Luke and Calum approached him on the halls, asking what was wrong, and what was he so nervous about. Michael didn't really know if he was supposed to tell them what was going on. He had to know what mark did he receive before telling anyone.  
He decided he'd wait until he got home. He'd ask his mother, and she'd give him a great advice, just like always.  
But she didn't. Or that he thought so.  
At first, when he got home and called for her, he felt so relieved. His mark didn't turn into a scar. But that meant he got a new mark. And red or black, he was afraid.  
He went straight to the kitchen, where his mother was waiting for him, and took off his sneakers without even taking a glance at his feet.  
Please tell me it's not red, mom-was the first thing he said-please tell me it's not red.  
She landed her eyes on the new mark his son received and felt the need to cry. Michael saw her face and knew he was going to cry. He tried to hold the tears, but the pressure on his chest won him and he fell on his knees, sobbing hysterically.  
She kneeled by his side, stroking his hair and trying to calm him down, but no words were helping. They stayed like this, his head on her lap and her hand on his hair, for about an hour, until he finally stopped crying.  
He looked at his mother and she nearly started crying too. His eyes were puffy and red, and so were his cheeks. His chest was moving heavily and he could barely made up a word.  
His mom got up and helped him sit on the chair by the counter. She made some tea and served him some of his favourite cookies.  
I think it's time for you to know something-she began-I, myself, have a red mark too.  
I know-Michael said with a shaky voice-you showed it to me when I was a kid.  
Right-she nodded-when your first mark appeared. But I never really told you the story. This-her finger touched the thin line on her arm-is the third mark I ever got. After my parent's and before you dad's.  
Michael put the cup he was holding down on the table and wiped his still watery eyes.  
When I was fifteen I met this boy. He was new at school and the professor assigned him the seat by my side. He was amazing in every way you could imagine. But l, of course, was the only one that saw that-she took a sip of her tea-the first time we talk, he told me I had a beautiful smile, and I was a girl, I had hopes and dreams, and he was one of them-she smiled sadly and let out a quiet sob-he would walk home with me, carry my bags when they were to heavy for me and scare some of the stupid bullies that harassed me.  
When?-Michael interrupted her-when did you get your mark?  
The day he asked other girl to homecoming. I felt my heart breaking in two and my arm itching. I was as scared as you are right now.  
And what did you do?-Michael knew none of what she said would help him, her mark was still red.  
There was nothing I could do. He showed me his black mark, and I showed him my red one-her breath got caught on her throat as she remembered everything-he walked away without a single word. He left me alone. With no one by my side when I walked home, carrying my heavy bag and being the target of everyone to make fun of.  
How... How did you get over him?  
I never did, sweetheart, never-she reached her hand to hold his son's-a couple of months later, your father knocked on my door, asking for his ball-she laughed softly-and, of course, it was hard for me to love again, but when the fourth mark appeared, I was happy it was black.  
Michael kissed his mom's cheek and finished drinking his tea, leaving to his room. He looked out the window, watching the girl next door leaving her house to hop on some douchebag's motorcycle.  
Michael was fifteen when his heart broke for the second time in his life. 

 

When Michael was seventeen, Luke showed him and Calum his red mark. Michael felt bad for his friend. He didn't want him to suffer, but there was nothing he could do. Once again, he felt useless.  
Luke never told them who was he in love with, but Michael knew. He caught him watching Calum every once in a while. Michael saw how heartbroken Luke was when Calum showed them his black mark. Michael knew how Luke felt every time he saw Calum and the girl he loved around him. Luke never said a thing. But Michael knew.  
Just like he knew when Luke was feeling worthless. Because he once felt worthless himself.  
And Michael knew Luke wasn't handling his red mark well. He knew because he wasn't handling his either.  
Michael tried to talk to him. He tried to make him stop. But he wasn't enough. He was never enough. He was useless. And that killed him.  
He started hanging out more with Luke, because if he couldn't be happy, at least he wanted to make somebody else happy. But Luke wasn't making any effort. He never went out, didn't talk to anybody, and he started sucking at band practices.  
Michael knew everything was going downhill when he saw Luke's scars. He didn't buy any of his lies. Those weren't marks. Luke knew Michael knew. But he wanted Calum to know. He wanted Calum to stop paying attention to his girlfriend, and see what he had done.  
Luke wanted Calum so bad. He thought he could die for him. And so he tried.  
If Michael had showed up three minutes later, he would have lost one of his best friends.  
Michael found the pool of blood, followed by Luke's body, still shaking. Michael screamed Luke's name. But he didn't responded. Michael lifted him in his arms, and ran out of the house screaming. Screaming for help. Luke was dying. His best friend was dying. He called an ambulance. He didn't know what else to do. Michael saw the blood on Luke's arms and tried to stop it, at least until the ambulance got there. And thankfully he did.  
They ripped Luke from his arms and took him to the nearest hospital.  
When Michael was seventeen, he almost lost Luke. 

 

Michael turned nineteen and he was drunk as fuck.  
Luke, Calum and Ashton were nowhere to be seen, and he could barely walk. He was holding on everything that kept still with his weight on it. A few chairs, walls and people. That night, Michael saw faces he didn't recognize, except for one.  
She was small compared to him. Her face was rounded and her cheeks were chubby. Not Calum chubby, but chubby. Her auburn hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing a loose black dress.  
He tried to give her a name, but he wasn't mentally able to do that. Instead he asked her.  
She laughed and helped him sit on the porch stairs.  
Maisie-she said once she made sure Michael was secure on the floor-What's yours?  
You don't know who I am?-he snorted loudly and hurt his throat-I'm Michael Clifford, duh.  
Well, I'm sorry, rockstar.  
He smiled at her words. His mom used to call him rockstar. He loved his mom.  
If you don't know who I am, what are you doing here?-he babbled and she almost didn't understand what he said.  
I got invited by my friend. I'm sure you know him. Luke Hemmings.  
And with that he remembered where she was from. Luke's friend. He had seen her a couple of time hanging out with him. He always thought she was his girlfriend, even though he denied it.  
You are Luke's girlfriend-he shouted, making her jump.  
I'm not-she let out a laugh and Michael wondered what was so funny.  
Michael spent the first half of the night talking to her. She asked a lot of questions. About him, his family (He didn't tell her about his father's death) about the band, his friends. And even in his drunken state, Michael was happy. Happy because she wasn't one of those groupies wannabes that always sneaked on their parties. Happy because she was truly interested on him. Happy because she was cute. Happy because she made him forget about all the shit his life has been.  
Michael asked about her too. She told him she was from England, but she moved to Australia when she was ten. She told him she dropped out school and now is a photographer. Or at least she tries. She told him her parents kind of hated her and he thought she was exaggerating. A parent can't hate someone of their own blood.  
Things got a little awkward when she touched the tally marks topic. Michael got really angry. He tried to stand up, but ended stumbling down. She got flustered. She didn't mean for Michael to react the way he did. She was just curious. And so she let him know. Helping him sit on the stairs again, she murmured a few sorry.  
I think I'll leave now-she said, getting up.  
But Michael didn't want her to leave. He grabbed her hand before she went to far from him. She turned around and Michael murmured a soft 'sorry'.  
I'm a bit sensitive. I rather not talk about it.  
Maisie nodded and asked about tour. Michael started rambling about hotel room, fans, broken strings and his band mates.  
Maisie never took her eyes of his, only to look how his lips moved. She knew it wasn't right, he was drunk and she would be taking advantage of his state, but her self control wasn't very strong and she interrupted him by crashing her lips with his.  
Michael didn't know what to do. It wasn't his first time kissing a girl, but it felt so different. She was different. He could taste the alcohol on her mouth, but he could also taste her coconut balm.  
Just when Michael slid his arm around her waist, Luke opened the door, scaring the hell out of Maisie. Michael was too drunk to know what was happening, so he kept bringing her closer.  
Dude!-Luke yelled-stop kissing my friend.  
Michael looked up at him and gave him a drunk smile.  
C'mon, Mase. Ashton is driving us back home.  
Maisie got up and helped Michael do the same. She took his phone from his back pocket and wrote her number, smiling because he didn't have a pass code. She then returned the phone and left a kiss on Michael's cheek.  
Luke punched his arm and told him they would talk about it and both left him alone on the porch.  
Michael was nineteen when he felt happy. 

 

Michael was twenty, and he wasn't scared of the itching on his foot. It had happened when he was on stage and he barely felt it but he thought it was about time.  
Michael looked to the side stage and saw her checking her hips. He saw her smiling and he smiled too.  
The last year of his life passed in front of his eyes.  
After that night on Feldy's, celebrating his birthday, Michael couldn't stop thinking about Maisie. Every day he would ask Luke for her number, but he wouldn't respond. He remembered getting really mad at him, to the point of not even looking at him for a week or so. That was when Luke realized that Michael wanted this for real.  
The first text she ever got from him was an apology for not contacting her before and a few swearing words towards the blond friend.  
The first date was a disaster, to say the least. He had the whole night planned. There was a fair in London, and he was so excited, until it started to rain.  
It was a fucking storm and they barely made it to his car with their socks dry.  
The second she closed the door, he started apologizing. Maisie looked at him amused and, just like the first time they met, she kissed him.  
"I'm the one who's supposed to kiss you, Maisie" he cried, but grabbed her face for another kiss.  
The first month of their relationship Michael got her a few lenses for her old camera and a free photoshoot of him. She spent the whole day capturing the beauty of the blue haired boy. His hands, his eyes, his lips, his body. Michael didn't know, but she printed the pictures that best showed how he was.  
The first fight wasn't really that bad, but he felt her heart fell out of her chest.  
Michael had just got home from tour, and immediately called to let her know. And that was it for a week. Maisie was optimistic, he was spending time with his family, she can't ruin that. But he never called, or texted. And that broke her down.  
On the seventh day, he appeared on her door. A bouquet of daisies(because it rhymes with Maisie) and a smile, that turned into a frown when she closed the door in his face.  
"You didn't fucking called"  
"I'm so sorry, sweetie. I've been busy with mom and dad"  
"Not a single text, Michael. A text. I don't ask for much"  
"I'm sorry, Mase. Please, let me in"  
"Leave, Michael"  
The first night she spent at his house was surprisingly great. He choose her favourite movie on Netflix, and made dinner. They fell asleep mid movie and when he woke up she was still there. Her mouth was slightly open, and she was dribbling, the make up she forgot to wipe out of her eyes was on his pillow and there was a pool of saliva under it. Michael didn't care. His pillow were all stained because of his hair dye, and he had a saliva all over his cheek.  
The first time he wished he had a red mark was when he was in her apartment. He'd been trying to write a song for a while and couldn't get the right words, so he drove to her place and asked for help. The song was quickly forgotten when she told him she wanted to play guitar. They spent the day sitting on the couch with his guitar on her lap and his arms on her waist. That's when he realized he loved her, and that no red or black mark would ever matter, as long as she is beside him.  
The first day on tour was hell for him. She wasn't there and Michael was desperate. But when he saw her auburn hair, he almost fainted. She laughed at his reaction and ran to hug him.  
Michael caught her in the air and spinning her around kissed her face. If this isn't love, Michael thought, then I don't know what it is.  
Luke appeared on his vision and snapped him out of his trance. It was his turn to sing.  
The show ended with the final bow and the boys headed back to the dressing room, except for Michael.  
He went straight to Maisie and kissed her on the cheek while hugging her.  
You're so fucking sweaty, Michael-she said when he pulled away, making a disgust face.  
I got a new mark-he stated.  
Maisie looked at him in awe. His red hair was stuck to his forehead, his green eyes shined like the sun was hitting them, his lips were curled up into a big smile and his cheeks were red because of the stage rush. Maisie felt the itching on her hip again and smiled widely.  
Michael guided her to some empty room where no one would interrupt them. He took off his sneakers and slowly got rid of his left sock. Her breath got caught on her throat when she saw the fresh black mark on his foot.  
He raised his head to look at her. Her face didn't showed any emotion. He walked closer to her and took the hem of her (his, actually) shirt. Maisie barely moved. Michael pulled up the shirt, just a little bit, to reveal the black mark that decorated her soft skin.  
There's no use on saying this-she wrapped her arms around his neck-but I love you.  
He laughed and looked into her eyes before kissing her lovingly.  
Michael was twenty when he found the love of his life.


End file.
